


A Little Silk Against the Skin

by justasock_x



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom!Geralt, Crossdressing, F/M, Feminization, Geralt in a dress, Jaskier is obsessed with the idea of Geralt in a dress and tbh I am too, M/M, Magical Bondage, Mild D/S undertones, Multi, Oral Sex, Rimming, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, top!Jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justasock_x/pseuds/justasock_x
Summary: Fill for the Witcher Kink Meme: Geralt/Yennefer or Yennefer/Geralt/Jaskier, crossdressing, His lover(s) likes to see Geralt dressed up in Yen's fancy dresses.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	A Little Silk Against the Skin

“Absolutely not,” Geralt said flatly, folding his thick arms over his chest. Yennefer rolled her eyes. Jaskier immediately began to pout. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” the sorceress asked carelessly, raising a brow.

“Like you think I’m being unreasonable.”

“You are being unreasonable,” Jaskier pointed out.

“I am _not_.”

“It’s just a dress, Geralt, what are you afraid of?” Yennefer snarked, and Geralt growled. 

“Get rid of it. It’s ridiculous.” 

He stomped out of the room and they listened as he made his way down the stairs of the tavern. Jaskier winced. Geralt was silent on his feet - he wouldn’t be a successful Witcher if he were loud. If he was making noise, it was because he wanted the pair of them to know of his displeasure.

“We’re in trouble,” the bard lamented, flopping back onto the single bed in the room. 

“He’ll get over it,” the mage responded, waving a hand as she sat next to Jaskier’s sprawled out form. “The idea is in his head now, he won’t be able to stop thinking about it,” she promised, her violet eyes twinkling. Jaskier gave her a kiss on the cheek, glancing forlornly at the pretty golden fabric hanging on the hook by the door. The dress was tight-fitting and sleek, with long sleeves and a full skirt. The bodice was adorned with beautiful golden threading, the floral pattern winding down the long arms in delicate swirls of embroidery. It was eerily similar to one of Yennefer’s own beautiful gowns, but made exactly to fit Geralt’s bulkier frame.

“The finest Redanian silk,” the bard muttered mournfully. The witch sighed at his antics, shaking her head.

“Give him time,” she insisted. Her full mouth turned up into a grin. “I promise. You’ll see.”

Jaskier smiled at her confidence and didn’t pull away when she drew him up and into a kiss. Their mouths met firmly and Yennefer nipped at the bard’s lower lip before soothing the sting with her tongue, earning her a small purr as he pulled her over him to straddle his lap. His long, lutist fingers carded through her hair gently before tightening and tugging to bare her throat as he leaned up to suck a line of kisses down the arched skin. She gasped, rocking her hips and grinning nastily at the feel of his hardness growing underneath her weight.

“Come on, bard,” she cajoled, voice low. “Imagine Geralt bent over for you while you fuck him, hm?” Jaskier jerked under her, his blue eyes wide and his pupils blown. “Imagine just hiking his skirts up and opening him on your cock.” 

“Fucking _fuck_ , wench,” he wheezed, his hands going to her hips as he bucked up against her. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Trying to inspire you,” Yennefer answered, fingernails digging into the thin tunic covering the bard’s chest. Jaskier growled, sitting up fully and yanking at his tunic. He tossed it onto the floor before he began attacking her bodice with nimble fingers, and soon her breasts were bare, dress folded at the waist as Jaskier took a sensitive nipple between his straight white teeth and bit down. She cursed and pushed forward into his mouth, groaning when his hands slid her dress down to puddle at her waist. 

“Up,” he commanded, voice rough as he gave her a light tap on the ass, and she acquiesced, standing and letting the dress fall to the floor. He stripped out of his breeches and smallclothes and then offered her a hand. Taking it, Yennefer gasped when he brought them together again, their heated skin brushing as he cupped her chin and brought their mouths back together. Yennefer managed to guide the bard back to the rented bed and she laid him out on his back and straddled him again. Jaskier’s hands returned to rest lightly on her hips, his thumbs making gentle circles on the soft skin. Yennefer wasted no time before slamming the slick heat of herself down onto the bard’s ready cock, her body wound up from her own filthy fantasy. Jaskier moaned and bucked his hips up into her, one of his hands leaving her hip to begin circling maddingly over her clit. 

“Maybe I’ll take him from behind, hike those skirts up,” he panted, pressing kisses to her breasts and throat when she leaned down to let him whisper his filth into her ear. “Maybe he’ll bury his face in your cunt while I fuck him, Yen. Would you like that?”

She clenched and came with a shout, her body rippling around his cock where it pistoned in and out of her. Jaskier’s fingers didn’t stop teasing her and he brought her to another orgasm before finally allowing himself to fuck up into her wildly, fingers tight on her hips and wet with her fluids as he sought his pleasure. She sighed when he came inside her, filling her hot and wet, and slumped down over him as they caught their breath. They were both sticky and spent, but the mage waved a hand and the mess was gone.

“Perks of fucking a witch,” Jaskier mused aloud with a tired grin. “Come on, Yen. I’ll be the big spoon.”

“You’re the littlest spoon I’ve ever seen,” Yennefer answered with a snort, but her eyes were fond and she settled with her back against his chest easily enough. He was slimmer than Geralt, but he was still lean and muscled from his travels, and she ran soft fingertips over the skin of his forearm as he dozed off behind her. By the time her own eyes shut, Geralt had still not returned.

Yennefer blinked awake slowly the following morning, a face full of brown waves greeting her and tickling her nose. She inhaled the scent of sandalwood and recognized the bard’s signature smell as her eyes opened. Their Witcher stood at the foot of the bed, his unimpressed golden gaze fixed flatly on the pair of them, his mouth a thin, bloodless line.

“Good morning,” she offered, blinking up at him. He didn’t react, so she nudged Jaskier until he rolled onto his back with a groan of protest, eyes fluttering open. He caught the same sight that Yennefer had, Geralt still standing menacingly at the end of the bed.

“Stop looking like a jilted lover, Geralt, Melitele help me,” the bard snapped, getting out of the bed and brushing past the Witcher to get to the small wash basin on the other side of the room. He washed his face and chewed his mint while Geralt watched him with unreadable eyes. Once dressed, Jaskier packed his things carefully. Yennefer had managed to get herself out of bed and dressed under the Witcher’s watchful gaze, and Jaskier noted with alarm that the beautiful, hand-crafted gown he'd paid a pretty penny for had disappeared. His panicked blue eyes met Yennefer’s knowing violet, and she offered him a simple head shake. He nodded in acknowledgment, dropping his gaze.

“Get rid of the stupid thing, then?” Geralt asked, finally breaking his silence. 

“Hm,” the witch answered, eyes flashing dangerously.

They left the tavern and carried on with their travels, the golden dress all but forgotten. Geralt was glad for it.

* * *

“He’s being a bastard,” Geralt growled. Jaskier was playing for the decent-sized crowd in the tavern they’d rented a room at while Geralt sat with Yennefer and drank. Jaskier had been giving him the silent treatment and cold shoulder, shrugging his intimate touches off, ignoring his kisses to cling to Yen instead when they were all in bed together. It made something ache deep in Geralt’s chest, and while the bard played to the enamored crowd, Geralt decided that enough was enough. The trek from the previous village had been nearly unbearable with Jaskier’s prickly attitude overshadowing his normally sunny disposition. 

“Is he?” the witch asked curiously, voice carefully neutral. 

Geralt glanced at her and frowned. She shrugged and sipped her wine. Her eyes stayed on Jaskier as he performed, making his way around the room to involve the crowd and get them eager to hear more. He was a good performer, always able to reel a crowd in; she gave him credit for that. 

“Did you consider that perhaps Jaskier was embarrassed about this particular interest of his and that the only reason he may have elected to tell the two of us is because he felt like he could trust us with such a secret?” Yennefer pondered after a period of silence, tapping a fingertip against her full lower lip. He grunted. “Did you consider,” she continued, voice growing harsh, “that he now feels humiliated and rejected by one of his lovers?” 

“I don’t want to put on a fucking dress, Yen,” Geralt groused, finishing his ale and signaling for another. The barmaid brought him a full tankard and quietly slipped away with his empty one. 

“I think you’d look lovely,” she said dreamily, once the barmaid was a safe distance away. “Besides, Jaskier paid good money for that gown and it’s perfectly tailored to your measurements. You could at least put it on.” Her eyes were wicked. Geralt sighed and finished his new ale in a few long pulls.

* * *

Jaskier approached their room a few hours after he’d seen Yennefer and Geralt head up the stairs. His chest hurt, thinking about them being intimate without him when he and Geralt weren’t speaking. Jaskier didn’t mind the strange relationship they’d found themselves in - he had no issues taking just Yennefer or Geralt to bed and didn’t mind when they bedded each other without him - but he did mind that they had spent most of his set talking in hushed voices, their eyes flicking between him and one another, while he and Geralt had exchanged barely a handful of words in days. It chafed at him like a cheap doublet, and when he shoved the door to their room open, his wide eyes took a long moment to recognize what he was seeing.

Geralt stood facing away from him while Yennefer laced the corset on the back of the golden gown Jaskier had so meticulously chosen. She was clad in only her linen shift, and when Jaskier let out a soft gasp, she turned to smile at him, eyes dark and mischievous. 

“Well, buttercup, help me finish lacing him, why don’t you?” she teased, extending one of her elegant hands to reach for him. He took it and kissed it reverently, and she offered him a secret smile as she transferred the lacing to him and stood back.

“Geralt?” the bard whispered, voice shaking. “Are you…”

“Get on with it, bard,” the Witcher answered gruffly, and Jaskier nodded to himself before forcing his hands to stop trembling and begin the simple process of tugging the laces snug.

“Tighter,” Geralt said, but nothing more as Jaskier’s confidence grew and he finished the lacing with a neat bow at the dip of Geralt’s spine. He smoothed the fabric at the Witcher’s hips, groaning low in his throat when Geralt turned to face him. 

“You look indescribable,” Jaskier breathed, hands drifting restlessly over the fabric covering the Witcher’s arms, over the tight bodice and fitted shoulders to loop his arms over Geralt’s neck and pull him into a desperate kiss. The bigger man gasped, hands coming up to touch Jaskier, but Yennefer tutted and suddenly the Witcher’s wrists were bound behind his back. Yennefer’s eyes were bright and wild as she approached the two men, now staring at her. She wound her fingers in Geralt’s long hair and tugged, pulling his head back and elongating the curve of his pale throat.. 

“As lovely as it is to watch you both, I had a different idea for this mouth,” she informed them, running the thumb of her free hand over the Witcher’s kiss-swollen bottom lip. He smirked and bit the tip of her thumb lightly.

“What kind of idea?” Geralt asked, voice already low with desire. 

“Over the bed, darling, and we’ll show you,” Jaskier promised, and Yennefer’s grin turned filthy as she stripped out of her underclothes and sprawled out on the comfortable inn mattress. 

“This is Jaskier’s show, sweetheart,” she cooed as the Witcher bent himself at the waist over the bed, resting his stubbled chin on her lean thigh. She ran her fingers through his hair and smiled softly when he tilted into the feeling. “I think you’ll just have to do what he says.”

The Witcher growled at that, but it was his teasing, playful growl, and so his lovers ignored him. Jaskier moved behind Geralt, admiring the flowing golden fabric draped over him as he ran his hands along the Witcher’s covered ass and thighs, his cock already filling in his breeches and making him dizzy with lust. The fabric was heavy and soft, expensive and well made, and it glided smoothly as Jaskier hiked it up around Geralt’s hips. The bard let out a quiet, heartfelt groan when he encountered no smallclothes, just the Witcher’s scarred, pale skin. 

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” the smaller man promised, popping the cork on the bottle of oil he’d brought with him and drizzling some of it over his dexterous fingers. Geralt twitched at the first pass of the bard’s fingers over his hole, but Jaskier didn’t press in. He ran his slick fingertips over Geralt’s hole, teasing it and watching in delight as the muscle slowly grew pliant and wet from the oil, getting used to the intimate touches. Geralt’s hips shifted back impatiently, and Jaskier clicked his tongue, giving him a soft tap on the ass.

“Behave,” he admonished. “And make yourself useful, Yen said she wanted your mouth.” 

“I want you to fuck me,” Geralt grumbled, but he dutifully moved from Yennefer’s thigh to where she was wet and desperate. 

Geralt flicked his tongue against her clit, and the mage let out a quiet breath through her teeth as he set himself to his task, glutting himself on the taste and feel of her slick and wanting as Jaskier rewarded him with a finger sliding firmly inside of him. The bard circled the digit inside him, stretching and tugging him open, and the Witcher groaned into where he was buried in Yennefer’s cunt. Her fingers drifted to his hair and began to tug, directing him to her whims as Jaskier worked him open until he was taking three fingers with ease, moaning into Yennefer's sex every time the bard’s clever fingers brushed his prostate. 

“Fucking put it in him, Jaskier, gods above,” she growled, thighs tense around the Witcher’s shoulders. Geralt rumbled his agreement, and she bucked up as she came against his tongue. He licked at her until she was oversensitive and breathless, shoving him away from her cunt and into Jaskier, hot and hard behind him. 

“Ready, Witcher?” he asked, the tip of his oil-slick cock pressed to the rim of Geralt’s loosened hole. “Ask me nicely, and I’ll fuck you.” He put his hands on Geralt’s where they remained bound by Yennefer’s magic behind his back.

“Please fuck me,” Geralt ground out, and Jaskier gasped in delight and slid forward, the Witcher’s well-prepared hole stretching easily around his cock. The bigger man groaned as he was spread open, and Yennefer shimmied down the bed slightly so he could rest his head against her hip, puffing hot breaths of air against her as she played gently with the hair at the base of his neck.

“Look how well you’re taking it, darling,” she praised him, and he kissed the warm skin under his mouth mindlessly as the bard bottomed out inside of him.

“Gods, Geralt, you look gorgeous, I-”

“Fucking _fuck_ me, lark,” the Witcher snarled, and Jaskier’s mouth shut with an audible click before he began to do what he was told, his hips moving in hard, sinuous thrusts as he took his pleasure in Geralt’s willing body. As Jaskier grew more frantic, the sight of their coupling reignited Yennefer’s desire, and she waved a hand to release the bonds holding Geralt hostage. His left hand immediately grasped her hip, and she took his right in her own and led it down between her thighs. Taking the hint, Geralt slid two fingers inside her soaking heat, curling them and dipping his head to begin licking at her again in earnest.

The corset of the dress was tight, and the Witcher relished in the feel of being just a little out of breath while Jaskier ran reverent hands over his naked flesh and the fine silk indiscriminately and Yennefer came again with a bitten off cry of his name. Jaskier thrust inside him once more and spilled inside him with a whine of his own, pulling out after a moment and watching with wide, blown eyes as his come began to trail down Geralt’s pale thighs, framed as they were by expensive silk.

“Look at you,” he breathed, sinking down to his knees as Geralt shifted uncomfortably, still hard and leaking against the skirts hiked up to his hips. “Oh hush, darling, I’ll take care of you.” Geralt stilled as the bard’s thin fingers traced the line of come dripping down his thigh and followed it up to his sensitive, swollen hole. His fingers trailed over the pliant muscle carefully, and Geralt let out a quiet whine when Jaskier slid three back inside, stretching and then twisting as he coaxed his own come out. Geralt’s face burned as he heard it dripping onto the floor, the feeling wet and sticky between his thighs. Once the bard was satisfied, he pulled his fingers free and replaced them with his mouth, his tongue cleaning the remainder of the come left on Geralt’s skin. 

“Jaskier,” the Witcher managed, voice breaking. “Yen, please.”

The witch smiled, letting her hand drift down to wrap around Geralt’s leaking cock. Jaskier’s hand, still stained with the come he’d cleaned out of Geralt, joined hers, and their laced fingers and the bard’s tireless mouth against his hole brought him to a bone-deep orgasm, his roar of completion ringing in the room even as he shook through the aftershocks. Jaskier stood behind him and deftly unlaced the gown, and when Geralt stood and stretched it slid down his body to pool at his feet. Jaskier’s face was a little uncertain, a little closed off, and the Witcher cupped his jaw in one hand to bring him in for a soft kiss. 

“That was lovely,” he admitted when they parted, and the bard’s eyes lit up.

“Really?”

“Hmm.”

“He might’ve ruined the dress, I’m afraid,” Yennefer acknowledged from where she remained sprawled on the bed. 

Jaskier scrambled to pick up the heavy garment, blue eyes darting over it with dismay when he noticed the come staining the inside of the skirts. 

“Damn it,” he muttered, clenching the fabric in his fists. 

“We can get another,” Geralt offered. Jaskier’s head whipped up to stare at him. His eyes were twinkling. 

“You mean it?” the bard asked, hopeful.

Yennefer’s laugh was quiet and musical. 

“Bard, I don’t think you could stop him if you wanted to,” she said, eyes mischievous and pleased. “Now, boys. Come to bed.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for [this](https://witcherkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/429.html?thread=2989#cmt2989) prompt on the WKM.


End file.
